Eaton Hamilton's Blog

People will know my antipathy toward the word “ladies.” Even so, say hello to my painting “Childless Cat Ladies,” painted since the election for the inUGHuration. It’s 24×30″, oil on stretched canvas.

Please forward so we can all #CelebrateResistance.

#FineArt #OilPainting #OneOfAKindArt

Hi folks; Thank you for your continued support for this blog through the years. I’m upgrading! Right now you can still find writing and art at Patreon under Hamilton Art. Come join us! I also try to get up a new painting on FB and Insta every week, so follow there! Thank you again!

Painting by: Eaton Hamilton, 24″x30″ oil on stretched canvas

ID: Yt women and men dressed in their finery form queue and separate from one another. The men are red-faced. From shame?

Painting: Eaton Hamilton, 30″x40″ oil on stretched canvas

ID: Yt man and woman dancing in the 1950s, done in tones of blue, other couples around them, diamond pattern on the wall

Today Andrea Robin Skinner, daughter of the late author Alice Munro, published her essay about her childhood sexual abuse at the hands of her stepfather, whom her mother Alice chose to stay with until his death. Andrea’s father also knew and did nothing to help her, even sending her back to ON for summers, where the abuse continued.

Here is the link: Toronto Star.

If you want to read a memoir about a mother who left the pedophile who was assaulting their kids, read my “No More Hurt” by pseudonym Ellen Prescott, published Random/ebury UK, 2011. Amazon Canada link.

Painting: Eaton Hamilton 2024

Cold wax and oil on oil board 12″x16″

ID: Woman lies on her side on green surface, green bkgd

Are you a literary asshole for telling folks you dislike their writing? I’ll never forget once doing a reading, sitting in the crowd when a woman leaned forward and said, “Hey, didn’t you win the CBC Literary Award?” “Yes,” I said, “I did.” Feeling a little proud. She said, “That was a year the wrong story won.”

WHY THANK YOU, ASSHOLE.

Here’s another literary assholery. I was one of the judges in a big lit award and we chose a new author’s first book. I went up to congratulate them after the award ceremony and they said, “I know who you are! You launched your book at the same location I launched mine, the same week.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, not having realized that.

“Because a u bunch of my friends went to your reading by mistake when they meant to go to mine.”

Yup. Just why? Why be such a bad citizen? I never read another word that person wrote. I mean why would I?

I know re: my CBC story the reaction was probably transphobia, right? I mean, the story, “Smiley,” appeared in En Route with a warning tag saying something that essentially meant, Just because we’re publishing this shit doesn’t mean we support this shit. I checked the French writer’s winning story. Nope, no warning. I don’t know what the other incident meant, other than the writer was a total dick. I wanted to say, “Asshole, I just gave you an award.”

I could tell stories for years without stopping. But check out Kristen Arnett at Lit Hub instead.

Happy Pride! Painting by Eaton Hamilton, 2024, 20″x20″ oil on stretched canvas

ID: Two yt men kissing

Enjoy the last week of Pride, folks!

Painting: Eaton Hamilton 2024 9″x12″ oil on oil board

ID: Three kids re-enact the evening after fishing, one holding rod and knife, one in apron eating something, one cooking fish in skillet over rock stove. Tones of brown, green, pink, yellow.

This was the closest I could come to a bear painting, I’m afraid, since I don’t paint animals. But oh the last weeks have been bearly bearable, at least if you ask me. Longer denizens of the area are likely used to it. There are 5 black bears wandering the streets and raiding the garbage, though two are cubs. Photos have been taken of bears trotting down the avenue with white garbage bags in their mouths. (Part of me doesn’t get it, bc presumably these are from the residents who’ve been here longer?) My dog walks are getting shorter and shorter and I’ve gotten her a bear bell which skeeves her out. It’s a fine time to be cuddled at home with our heartbeat puppy relaxing us bc it’s been wildly raining. The plants quiver with the Junuary weather, and I’m already counting down the days until it’s fall and I’m quivering too. The garden struggles.

The conservation officer was through here with a live trap, though I imagine she or he would have their hands full with the numbers we’ve got here. They didn’t leave the trap at any rate, preferring just to remind residents of the garbage rules (and probably the sad end to any habituated bears).

Hope your days have been a little less bear naked.

painting by: Eaton Hamilton 2024, oil on oil board

Hello, writing and painting humans!

Do you get blocked? Here’s an essay with several prominent writers talking about how they handle it. I know I keep several projects on the go and just transfer to another one if one is giving me problems, and that seems to work for me 90% of the time. The other 10% has no known solution. But, anyway, for your reading pleasure: Six Writers.

Painting by: Eaton Hamilton 2024

9×12″ oil on oil board

ID: Woman w greying hair in 3/4 view, done in oranges and greens (and some blues)

Ah, good friends, when the verdict came in this week, and I was watching live and began to sob out loud. I didn’t realize how pent up I had been about justice delayed and denied over the last 8 years, not just with that appalling bigot, but generally as the world turns increasingly fascist while we repeat our hugest mistakes of the past.

How horrible right-wing govts are. How they ruin places. What would progress look like without them? Dr Martin Luther King Jr would be correct saying, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” That’s the world he saw brightly shining before he was slaughtered. I don’t see that world, but for just a minute after the verdict this week, I did, I did. Finally something swung toward justice.

I have introduced my dog not only to speech buttons now but to her “cuddle friend,” a stuffy dog with a heartbeat. She jumps up, I turn on the dog’s heart, turn off the light and pet her while we chill out a few minutes. At first I kept taking my blood pressure during/after and it was impossibly low. That thing works! It was for her, but it has ended up being for me too. Today I gave her a duplicate of a stuffed animal she loved to tear apart and she was so thrilled, and fetched it a number of times before dedicatedly trying to disembowel it. She finally concluded with her button that says, “I love my human.”